


Ten Years Later - Endings and New Beginnings

by SonicoSenpai



Series: Various Lamento One-Shots [2]
Category: Lamento -BEYOND THE VOID-
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Bad Past Relationship, Bardo is dead, Bardo turned out to be the wrong choice, Caring for the sick and dying, Consensual Sex, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I suck at tagging, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, OMFG it’s consensual, Original Universe, Outdoor Sex, Past Relationship(s), Pining, Rai’s POV, Really bad past relationship, Ten Years Later, Tenderness, The non-con/rape tag is implied, This is what happens when I try to write Bardo x Konoe, bardo ending, eager Konoe, not such a fairytale ending, pining Rai
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-29 00:48:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16733841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SonicoSenpai/pseuds/SonicoSenpai
Summary: This story takes place ten years after Bardo’s ending in Lamento BTV. If you haven’t seen this ending in the game, this may contain spoilers.I should say—I took some serious liberties with Konoe’s negative history with Bardo from the drama CD. I think he and Konoe do not have a good relationship, and I hate how Bardo’s friends treat Konoe—but if you read my stuff, you should know I am a die-hard Rai fan and this fic is actually a RaiKono ship.It’s told from Rai’s POV—who is now 33 and has never gotten over his love for Konoe. Bardo has passed away from illness, and Konoe needs help in contacting Bardo’s mother in Setsura. Of course, Rai rushes to his aid. His intentions may be less than pure.





	Ten Years Later - Endings and New Beginnings

Even ten years later, my heart lifts every time I see him.

The last two years have been hard for him. Still, he has become more beautiful than ever—changing from an adorable, cute kitten and growing into this absolute beauty of a cat. His body has stayed petite and delicate, but his hips are still slightly too large for his frame, and his ass has filled out, even more, his smile softer and sexier than it has ever been. 

But it’s his voice that gets me every time. 

I made up with the old man ten years ago—but the real reason was so I could see this kitten. I wanted to be sure he was all right. I wanted to be sure the old man treated him well. I know the old man better than he does, and I wanted to be here in case anything happened.

And two years ago, the old man got sick. 

And then I got word that he’d finally passed on. I was afraid the kitten might die of grief, too. When I heard, I rushed to Ransen, dropping the bounty I’d been chasing for two weeks. I didn’t care—I wanted to see Konoe. Not to fuck him or steal him away—eventually, I’ll try that, too, sure—I’ve been biding my time, I knew I’d outlive the old man—but the kitten will need time to recover. 

When I lay eyes on the kid—he’s only 25—he is thin, exhausted, dark circles under his eyes. He has been caring for Bardo and the inn, all on his own. I detect a sense of relief in his expression, now that the burden of caring for the sick old man for the past two years is over—and a horrible sense of guilt for feeling that relief. He’s had to watch his lover suffer, and this kitten is nothing if not compassionate. Had I been in Bardo’s position, I would have insisted on hiring help, or ending it early to save the poor thing his grief and pain. 

“He’s gone!” The kitten flies into my arms, much to my surprise. I can’t remember if he’s ever hugged me before—but I just hold him, letting him sob and cry as much as he needs. But it _isn’t_ heartbreak I sense from him. This is definitely relief and guilt for feeling this relief. He probably hasn’t shared those feelings with anyone, but I do not pry.

In my arms, I am holding a cat bordering on collapse—someone exhausted from the care of a terminally ill, demanding old cat, in addition to running an inn and restaurant at the same time—at the old man’s request. He’s run himself ragged. It doesn’t look like he’s been eating or sleeping. He’s been caring for the old man, but who has been caring for him?

“What do you need? How can I help you, Konoe?” 

“I’m so glad you’re here, Rai,” he murmurs into my chest, and the sound of his soft voice makes my chest hurt and my loins burn. Gods, I’m nearly 33, and he still affects me like this? Ridiculous. I try to hold him so he can’t feel my body’s reaction. He doesn’t need to deal with my needs now. He’s had enough demands on him—he needs _care_. “I need to tell his mother. He never did let me meet her. She knows about me, and she knew he was very sick. And she may want to bury him in Setsura.”

“I’ll help you. I know her and I will introduce you. Do you want me to take you? You look like you could use some time off.” I stroke his hair and ears softly, gently, tenderly.

Konoe looks up at me, his eyes blurred with tears. “You would take me with you?”

“Of course. We can leave tomorrow if you like.” 

“Thank you, Rai. You’ve always been such a good friend.” 

 _Friend_. His words, while he means well, cut me like a knife. 

* * *

He insists I stay the night at the inn and have dinner—and the meal is amazing. The kid’s cooking has improved so much over the past decade. Plus, he remembers my sensitivity to temperature and doesn’t say a word about it. 

“Your cooking is better than the old man’s,” I marvel. 

“Ah, you flatter me—but you shouldn’t speak ill of the dead!” Konoe rebukes me. Bardo has only been dead a few days, and I’m surprised the little one is taking it so well. It must be the exhaustion.

“Why not take a load off and sit? You should eat. You’ve lost weight.”

Reluctantly, Konoe sits down and takes a few bites, picking at his food. Though the restaurant is closed, several regulars stop by to see how Konoe is faring. I recognize some of Bardo’s friends. Several of them, I can tell, are _more_ than interested in the young Sanga. I know he is adorable and cute, but I had no idea just _how_ popular he has become here in Ransen. I recognize sexual interest in the eyes of those males. I stand up behind him, using my intimidating presence to send them on their way. 

Several of the cats seem to make him very nervous, and he seems glad for my company. 

“I’m so glad you’re here, Rai,” Konoe says, exhaling heavily, once we are alone. “Thank you for coming. You know, things haven’t been exactly like a fairytale for me here.”

“I wouldn’t imagine,” I say with a wry smile. “I know the old man pretty well.” I have seen that Konoe has often been stuck doing menial tasks that Bardo doesn’t want to do, or being the responsible one, getting bills paid, and so forth.

“No, I mean... I think... I may have made the wrong choice all those years ago,” he says, his voice serious and quiet, those oversized ears drooping sadly. He glances up at me, to see if I’m listening—his dark lashes still frame those honey-colored eyes the same way they always have—but I see pain reflected in those eyes I have never before seen. His words have captured my attention fully.

To my surprise, I feel anger bubbling up inside my chest.

“What did he do to you? What did he make you do?” 

“No, no,” Konoe says, waving his hand. “I shouldn’t get started on this now. It’s just... there was stuff I didn’t know. He has these... _friends_. They teased me from my first day here, and Bardo just ignored it. They were old friends from Setsura—they’d never change their ways, even if he confronted them, so he said. It didn’t matter if they touched me, grabbed me, groped me, pulled me into their laps, or even kissed me—as long as they paid their bill. At times, it almost felt like my body was good for the business.”

Konoe stares at the floor, while my head thrums with anger. But what good will my anger do anyone at this point?

“I shouldn’t speak ill of him,” Konoe says, scolding himself. 

I suppress a growl. “That was very wrong, Konoe. What he did—was _wrong_. He _used_ you.” I can’t believe the old man would share his lover— _this_ lover—a precious Sanga who doesn’t even belong in an inn!

“I felt like I was doing the _only_ thing I was qualified to do to help keep this inn on its feet. I knew nothing about cooking. I am small and my cleaning skills are decent, but I couldn’t always keep up with the work. I’d always lose my way while running errands in the city,” Konoe answers, as though making a confession. I remember that—his total and strange lack of direction. “But then, there was the time we ran into severe financial difficulty. It was the year we defeated Leaks. We hadn’t been together long, and Bardo over-invested his finances in restoring the inn after the attack. And we owed a lot—to the renovator, the contractors, the grocers, the butcher, the dairy—and we just couldn’t pay! Even after the spring festival, we didn’t get enough guests!”

I get a terribly sick feeling in my stomach. I can’t take my eyes from the kitten—he must have been what, seventeen years old then? No—only sixteen?

Konoe looks at the ground, refusing to meet my gaze like _he_ was the one who had done something wrong.

“He approached me and said, ‘Honey, I’d never ask you to do something you didn’t want to do. But if _you_ knew _I_ knew there was a way to save this inn and I didn’t tell you, wouldn’t you be upset?’ He was right—I _would_ have been angry. I _needed_ to know about it.”

“What exactly did he ask you to do?”

“The creditors asked to spend the night with me. We used our inn as the rendezvous point. In hindsight, several nights were a small price to pay for the amount of money we owed for the restoration of the inn. However, because of my inexperience, the nights were horrible—but I did it to save the inn! I really didn’t think we had a choice, and I felt so useless otherwise! There was nothing else I was good for.”

He is still looking down, and my heart breaks when I see a few tears dripping from his cheeks to the wooden floorboards. The sound of his precious tears hitting the floor—I will never forget it. 

“You could have asked me,” I say, stroking his soft ears gently. I notice he doesn’t shy away or flinch from my touch. When was the last time I allowed myself to touch these ears? They are still oversized and cute like he is growing into them—and so silky smooth. 

Konoe looks up. “You would have helped?” The words come out in a near helpless gasp.

“To save you from something like that, in an instant! Konoe, I’d never want you to be subjected to something like that!”

“Well, some of the creditors were just old, but two of them were incredibly cruel—wanting to restrain me, see me beg, punish me for what Bardo had done—”

“Oh my gods, Konoe! Are they still alive? Who are they?” I ask, growling under my breath.

Konoe smiles, though he has tears in his eyes. “Would you kill them on my behalf?”

“I would, if it would make you feel better,” I say. 

Konoe touches my chest gently. “Thank you, but I wouldn’t ask that of you. That time of my life is over. Let’s call it a night and get an early start tomorrow.” 

“Of course,” I say. I’m tempted to lick his ears, but I don’t. But I do embrace him before I leave the dining room. He melts into my arms as though he has always belonged there. Whispering in his ears, “Do you want me to help clean up?” I don’t lick the tip of his ear when I whisper in it, but it’s so large that the tip brushes against my lip slightly. It’s so soft. I feel a little drool building in my mouth.

“I couldn’t ask you to do that. You’re my guest, Rai.” 

Needless to say, I help clear the plates and follow that cute little ass into the kitchen. I don’t mind washing dishes—especially if it will help his exhaustion. He keeps looking at me strangely—an unreadable expression on his face—almost like he can’t believe I’m here. And his look is strangely intimate, almost as though he can read my thoughts. I really hope he can’t, since they are less than pure. I can’t help thinking about how gorgeous he has become, even as exhausted and gaunt as he is. I would do anything to alleviate his pain and exhaustion. And what I wouldn’t give to fuck him!

Just as the thought comes into my mind, Konoe’s tail brushes against me, and I find his smaller body brushing against mine. I’m standing at the sink, washing and rinsing dishes, and he is pulling them out to dry. It is such a casual touch, but it just feels... so nice. My fur ruffles slightly, and I find my tail reciprocating. It wraps itself around his smaller tail, entwining itself in a casual way, while we wash and dry dishes together.

Occasionally, he looks up at me and smiles.

“Thank you,” he says, earnestly. “That took half the time it would have otherwise.”

“You rest well. We will leave tomorrow after the moon of light rises,” I say. 

* * *

I walk upstairs to my room and fall into my bed, pulling off my boots—considering jerking myself off. If I do, I will probably have a much more pleasant trip. Plus—won’t it be easier for Konoe? How will I do handle myself otherwise, around Konoe? 

I touch myself for a few moments—fantasizing about his ass, that hooked tail, his gorgeous honey-colored eyes, those oversized ears, his soft smile—I wonder what sort of sounds would come out of his mouth if I made love to him...

I come quickly—it’s a ritual for me when I stay here, I suppose. I’ve spent many nights in a guest room just like this with these fantasies and my hand—or my own tail when I’m feeling adventurous.

When I finish, I feel relief. But I can’t believe the anger I feel when I think about Bardo using the kitten’s body to clear his debts. How could he not interfere when his friends touched his lover? I don’t care if it did build his business—I don’t like it. This is no ordinary kitten. He is a precious Sanga—and his talents have been wasted here.

I pinch the bridge of my nose, take a deep breath, and turn over in the bed. In any case, I’m here now. And it’s plain as the moon of light. I’m still in love with him.

* * *

We get an early start in the morning, and Konoe is looking much more rested. Gods, he’s gorgeous. He’s dressed in traveling clothes—blue and beige—out of that working kimono I’ve seen him wearing for the past decade that marked him as another man’s lover. It’s nice to see him dressed in something else—and those trousers—gods! They fit him snugly. I think I’ll walk ahead of him, just like I did in the old times. I remember now why I used to do that. First, so I could keep a close eye out for danger. Second, so I wouldn’t get distracted by that cute little body of his.  

It’s about a two-day journey to Setsura from Ransen, and I have some supplies already. He’s brought some food as well, carrying it in a small pack on his back. He also still has that small curved blade of his, which it looks like it’s been recently polished. It probably hasn’t gotten much use over the past years. I consider asking if he wants to train, and perhaps I will later. The late winter weather should be good, but it’s been a while since the smaller cat has been anywhere. He has been cooped up in that inn for the last decade. 

Seeing him outside is like seeing him in his natural habitat, and I see his nose twitch. I can’t help remembering his playfulness, and I grieve a little at its loss. He seems so much more reserved, watching the leaves rustle in the trees. Even the small creatures running to and fro in the woods just beyond the trees have little effect on him now—only causing his ears to twitch or a simple flick of his tail. 

I need to stop staring. I’m being too obvious. 

“Do you still sing?” I ask, trying to distract myself. 

“Not often,” Konoe says. “We used to train regularly, but Bardo called himself a shitty Touga one too many times, and then he fell ill. But even before that, I didn’t have much time to enjoy practice.”

“You don’t have to fight to sing,” I point out. I really just want to hear his voice.

“Oh—I guess you’re right. I never really thought about it like that,” Konoe murmurs. 

“You can try if you want. I miss the sound of your song—the sound of your voice. I’ve never been able to replace it,” the words spill from my mouth without my intending to say them, and I find I’m slightly embarrassed. I don’t turn around. “No pressure, though.”

Konoe laughs a little. 

“You’ve never found another Sanga? Any Sanga would be proud to pair with a Touga as strong as you,” he says softly. 

However, as we walk, I hear it—that mysterious melody I haven’t heard in over ten years. I hear it in my heart first, before the melody enters my ears like a caress. It’s a gorgeous, sorrowful melody—expressing the beauty of the world around us, the time that has slipped through his fingers, mistakes that were made. It’s both heartbreaking and beautiful.

It brings tears to my eyes and makes my heart soar. I feel warmth surrounding me, and I glance down at my body, seeing a warm white light wrapping around my body. When I turn around, I see the small cat is enveloped in that light, thin tendrils stretching from his body to mine, which is probably why I feel so damned good. I’d forgotten how good his song feels.

Even stranger, beneath the kitten’s feet, the grass is changing—it’s growing, green and new, flowers much too early for the late winter season are blooming wherever he sets his feet—just like the Sanga we read about at the library that night. I wonder if he remembers. He looks enchanting, like something from a fairytale. 

“Konoe,” I say, and I stop my steps. 

“Hmm?” he hums, looking up at me absent-mindedly. 

“Your feet—beneath your feet—your song has caused flowers to bloom, just like the Sanga we read about in the library. Do you remember?”

Konoe looks down, surprised.

“Did I do this?”

Looking behind us, there is a green trail where we have walked, flowers covering our path. His face softens into a pleased, proud smile.

“I guess I haven’t forgotten how to sing. That man—in the book—he was my father. I remember. You said you wanted to pair with him.”

I flinch at his words. Would I have said something so callous in front of my Sanga? Did I really say that? I don’t remember!

“I don’t remember—” I start, but he interrupts me. 

“I believe you said you’d like to pair with a Sanga as powerful as that.” Konoe is looking at me from the corner of his eye.

I sigh. I turn around and continue walking. We need to keep moving while we still have the light.

“Is that why you chose Bardo, all those years ago?” I ask. “I’ve always wondered. I figured it was because I frightened you. The old man was always more affectionate. I’ve always regretted—” and I stop my words. 

“What?” Konoe asks. He is no longer singing, but his voice is soft and genuine.

I don’t respond. I’ve already said more than I intended. 

“What is it that you’ve always regretted, Rai?” he presses. I feel a soft caress on my back—his hand touches me gently, encouraging me to spill more of my feelings that I shouldn’t share. 

“You’ve just lost your mate of nearly a decade, Konoe,” I say quietly. “I shouldn’t be speaking to you of such things.” 

“Rai.” His voice is gentle and soft—pained. I feel that soft touch again. “I haven’t experienced anything like physical love in more than three years. I have been very much alone. Even before he got sick—there was the female, too.” 

“What female?” My ears tip backward. I’m flabbergasted.

“I must have displeased him—perhaps I wasn’t responsive enough? Certainly, I didn’t have much experience. But he had a mistress in the brothel he saw regularly. She would visit our inn for dinner from time to time as well, showing her face to me.”

“You’re kidding.” I can’t believe it. “Why didn’t you leave him?”

“I think I loved him,” Konoe says sadly, “and I had nowhere else to go. I tried my best, and it was not sufficient. Perhaps I was not an eager enough lover for his taste?”

“Yet you cared for him as he lay sick and dying?” I growl. “You took care of his inn for him—at his request—to that level of exhaustion? You nearly killed yourself!”

“He was not a bad cat,” Konoe says. “He rarely raised his hand to me.” 

“Rarely?!” I stop in my tracks and turn around. Who is he talking about? “Are you talking about Bardo?”

“It was only a few times—when I really screwed up something big or irritated an important guest in the dining room—and he did no permanent damage—and I’m sure he thought he was teaching me—” 

“The man raised me for several years like I was his son, and he _never_ raised his hand to me—when I was a child,” I say. I can barely believe my ears. “Why didn’t you _say_ anything?”

“Who could I have told?”

“ _Me_ ,” I say. “Why didn’t you tell _me_? I would have stopped it!”

Konoe looks at me. There’s an almost desperate look in his eyes.

“Would you? Weren’t you angry with me?”

“No—why would you think that?” I ask, softening my voice. “Every chance I got—every time I came to Ransen—I would stay at that inn. I made up with the old man—not for his sake, but so I could see _you_. So I could make sure _you_ were all right. Yes, it bothered me to see a Sanga of your quality wasting his talents waiting tables, but as long as you were happy, I thought it was all right. Now, are you telling me you were never happy?” 

Konoe stares at my face, and to my horror, he heaves a rather surprised sob. He covers his face and bursts into tears. 

I can’t help myself. I take his small shuddering body into my arms, gently. I know I shouldn’t, but I  _have_ to touch him. I try to comfort him, but I _try_ not to touch him too much. I want to lick his ears _so_ much, but I restrain myself. 

Through his tears, he speaks. 

“It’s not that I was never happy. I had some good times. It was just _so_ hard! And it wasn’t what I expected—not at _all_! Bardo _wasn’t_ what I expected. And I was _so_ disappointed—and I was _afraid_ , and so _young_ , so _inexperienced_ , so _alone_. But when you’d show up at the inn—looking so strong and stoic like always, I’d always think—did I make the right choice? But you looked so happy. You were _successful_ , you traveled, you had _freedom_. And it seemed like you had conquered whatever had been plaguing you that had frightened me so much. I felt so stupid for being afraid in the first place! I chose Bardo because I was a _coward_. I wanted safety, security—and I was _afraid_. And now... being with you today and yesterday... Rai—I have something to confess.”

He pushes away from me for a moment. 

“I don’t know if you remember the trip to the shaman’s.”

Ah—I do. The strange shaman we visited when the kitten’s ears were black, and he had those strange tattooed markings on his body that seemed to crawl across his skin. He was enchanting—that’s what originally drew me to him, actually.

“I do,” I say simply. 

“Do you remember when I touched those ornaments on the table?”

I think about it, and I do—he had a shocked reaction, as though he could _see_ something—reading some history from them.

“Yes, I remember,” I answer, slightly confused.

“I no longer have _that_ gift—to see memories from _items_ —however, when feelings from other _people_ are strong enough, I do have the ability to feel their emotions. They cross over into my heart.”

“What are you saying? You can read my thoughts?” I probably ask this nervously, because if this is the case, he has probably seen some really nasty stuff both today and yesterday. My body starts to sweat a little. 

“Not exactly—it’s only emotion—and it has to be a very strong emotion. I usually keep my heart protected, because it can be overwhelming to feel what others are feeling all the time. But I have been curious—why you came here, and so quickly, for example. And I have let my walls down since yesterday, and I _know_ why you are here.” Konoe looks at me, his eyes shining with fresh tears. 

My heart skips a beat, rising up to my throat. I can’t find any words, so I say the one word that has been on my mind since I have been with him. 

“Konoe.”

“You have _loved_ me all these years. You have _waited_ for me all these years. You have been patiently biding your time, loving me for who I was and from afar. And I have been nothing but a fool. I truly am a stupid cat—but... Rai, I am _your_ stupid cat.” Those tears in his honey-colored eyes spill over and slip down his full cheeks.

“Hush,” I whisper, taking him into my arms again, lowering my lips to his face. I kiss away his tears—licking them softly. He lifts his face up to mine, deliberately meeting my lips. 

For ten years I have waited to kiss those lips—ten years I have fantasized about what they might feel like, how soft they might be—if he would resist, if he would kiss me first or if I would kiss him—and now, my dream has come true. 

Reality is much more satisfying than any fantasy. 

A small noise slips out of his mouth—into mine—vibrating within my body—when our lips meet. And I return his kiss, probing deeper, digging my hands into his long hair, angling his head. My tongue explores the surface of his fangs—small and delicate compared to mine—and then delves into his mouth, which brings out a desperate sounding sigh. When the muscles of our tongues brush together, they melt together, like two pieces of a puzzle, and he pushes his small body closer to mine. I can feel he is excited and already hard, and that makes my fur bristle. 

His eagerness surprises me—and delights me—and I brush my tongue in the back of his mouth, and he purrs in response. I see something sparkling in his face—in his long, dark lashes, fresh tears are gathering. I pull my mouth away from his for a moment to check that he is all right, brushing at the corner of his eyes.

I smile softly and he returns my smile shyly. 

“It’s just—no one that I have desired has desired me in such a long, long time. It’s such a wonderful feeling.” 

“Konoe, we have time. There is no rush,” I say. “I have waited some time. I don’t mind waiting a little longer.” 

“No.” His answer is decided. “I want you. I wanted you even ten years ago—I just didn’t understand my feelings, and I was afraid. I don’t want to wait any longer.”

He kisses me again, and this time, I feel his small hands boldly stroking my tail—running along its length and massaging the base and my ass, most daringly. It is increasing my desire for him at an alarming rate—so much so that I feel I’d better get him off the main path. 

I pull away and whisper, “We can’t do this on the main road.” 

“I don’t care who sees us,” he says rather boldly—and that ruffles up my fur even more. He is definitely a different cat that he was when he was a kitten.

I scoop him up in my arms, and he gives a little yelp, but he is smiling against my mouth—still purring in that incredibly lewd way.

“This is most unexpected. Are you sure this is what you want?” I ask.

“What I want, Rai,” he murmurs, “is for you to strip me bare and to fuck me like there is no tomorrow—like we should have done ten years ago.”

“Yes, sir,” I say—and I will gladly comply with this beautiful creature’s demand. 

I’ve found a semi-private clearing off the path—out of hearing from the main road since Konoe seems to be quite vocal. His voice is making my ears twitch. I pull off my weapons and set them aside and he drops his sword and pack, and I spread my cape down in the grass. 

Then, I start undressing Konoe. 

I’ve wanted to see his body for so many years—and like that kiss—my fantasies have not done him justice. His skin is a creamy pale ivory, and while he hasn’t been sword training, he has been working hard at the inn, and he has maintained a beautiful form.

His chest is beautifully sculpted—I can hardly believe it—and I admire it.

He is watching me admire him, touch him, kiss him, and he pulls at my shirt as well. I wasn’t planning on completely undressing—however, he will freeze if he doesn’t get skin-to-skin contact in this weather, so I comply and remove my shirt.

He can’t keep his hands away from my hair. 

“I’ve always wanted to run my fingers through your hair,” he whispers. “I’ve touched it before, you know—when you’ve visited the inn? I’d casually brush against you, just to see if it was as soft as it looked.” His oversized ears blush a lovely pink when he confesses to this. 

I can’t help licking his ears when he admits to this—and they are as soft as I thought they’d be. I lather some much-needed attention on them, sending shivers into the smaller cat’s spine, watching his tail fluff out almost as broad as mine. 

Then, I strip off his pants—he’s slipped off his boots already—and he is delicious. I push him down to my cape, grabbing both his hands, pinning them to the ground, and I lick him—all over his body—listening to him moan with pleasure. I lick his belly, the soft white fur leading down to his belly and his hips, his hips thrusting up eagerly. I drop a kiss on the tip of his dripping erection. I so much want to just suck him off—allow him to revel in pleasure, serve him, spoil him—let him experience all the pleasure he deserves and hasn’t been getting for the past years. 

It pains me to see how thirsty his body is for my touch. He needs to be caressed, to be loved, to be spoiled. Who wouldn’t want to love this little body? 

“N-no,” he whispers, “I want you to fuck me.” 

When he speaks like this— _those_ words from _this_ mouth in _that_ voice—gods—I expected him to be innocent and pure—like the kitten he was back then. But that _isn’t_ who he is anymore. He is grown now—he has experience, and he knows what he wants. Hearing him say it—gods—what a fucking turn on! It sends shivers down my spine. 

Konoe reaches into his pack and grabs something—my gods—is it lubricant? It _is_! Shit! And he brought it with him? The hair on the back of my neck stands on end, and I feel my fangs poking out over my lips reflexively.

“It’s been a while for me, so this will make it easier, I think,” he looks at me, shyly. “Do you want me to...”

“No! Let me,” I say, and I take the jar from him, opening it and spreading some on my finger. I also lower my mouth to his cock at the same time as I teasingly paint over his hole a few times with my lubricated finger, and I hear the most indulgent sound drop from his lips. It’s a stuttering, purring sigh. I gently push inside his body—so welcoming and warm.

With my other hand, I grab my shirt and drape it over his chest because I’m only covering his lower body at the moment, and the temperature is dropping quickly. As a short-haired breed—he’s bound to get cold being so exposed. I lick him gently, pressing around inside him, stretching him, adding more lube as necessary, paying attention to the sounds he’s making—and he’s making a lot, which is helpful and tickles my ears.

“You can add another if you like,” he says breathlessly, and he’s got his hands in my hair, massaging my ears, and he moans when I scissor my two fingers apart inside of him. 

My body is so hot I can hardly wait to enter him myself. He just feels like he is melting around my fingers—not just his insides, but his whole body, too. He curls up around me like he is trying to touch as much of me as possible.

He doesn’t seem to be bothered when I add a third finger, and his tail is bristled fully, wrapping itself eagerly around my leg. 

He leans down and whispers in my ear, “You’re going to lose those pants, aren’t you?”

That was a command if I’ve ever heard one.

He feels plenty eager enough to me, so I pull my fingers out and stand up to disrobe, and he keeps his eyes glued on me as I do. I consider taking him from behind, but he says, “Sit.”

 _Demanding_ , I think—and how could anyone _not_ think him an eager lover? 

Smiling, I sit down on the cape, and he kneels over my lap—he’s going to ride me—good lord—better than any fantasy I’ve ever come up with—holy shit! He adds a lot more lube to my cock before he starts, however—and it’s the first time he touches my cock directly. He makes bold and direct eye contact with me when he does. 

“I knew you were close to this size—since you’re so fond of those form-fitting trousers. But up close and in real life, you’re just a little intimidating,” he says with that shy smile. 

“Did you change your mind?” I ask. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“As if I’d back down now. I never back down from a challenge,” he chuckles, rubbing me right around the tip, making me gasp sharply.

I keep my hands on his hips for support, and we lock eyes. He holds onto my shoulders as he lowers himself onto me ever so slowly.

“It’s been a while, so, um, just, um, let me take my time?”

“Anything you need,” I murmur, and I kiss his ears, lick them, kiss them so more. Gods—he is _adorable_. I can hear his heart rate pick up—and he is working hard, breathing hard, and my heart breaks a little. He feels so good—the further I advance, he is so hot inside—holy shit—hot, soft, yielding, melting around me—and I feel like my body is burning. I hear a sound like a growl coming out of my mouth, and I can’t stop it—and it’s in addition to my own purr. 

“Oh gods,” I whisper quietly. “You feel amazing...” 

He is making short sighing noises—and I _so_ hope he is not in pain. I stroke his dick, and he purrs, too. He is the sexiest thing I have ever seen. I want him so much I can hardly breathe. Suddenly, I’m very thankful I masturbated last night, or I would be losing it about now—he is so damned sexy! 

Finally—I feel his ass resting on my thighs, and he is breathing hard and fast, still purring, lewd and wet, and I am still stroking his dick. I stop for just a moment, letting him adjust, and I run my hands over his body—almost to make sure he is actually here—we are _really_ doing this? Ten years I have waited—and damn, has he been worth the wait! Down his shoulders and back, along his sides and hips, stroking his buttocks, and I entwine my tail with his, which is twitching haphazardly. 

“Does it hurt?” I murmur. I certainly do _not_ hurt. Gods—I’m in heavenly bliss!

He doesn’t reply—but I see a few tears slip out of the corner of his eyes. I kiss them away. It hurts—I am _hurting_ him. Please—this is _not_ what I want...

“How can I make it better?” I ask softly, kissing his lips. 

“Stroke me, and give me a moment or two. I will be _fine_ ,” he whispers. He looks up at me and _smiles_ like he can read my thoughts—and then I remember he probably can. My feelings are close to overpowering me.

I start moving my hand on his dick again and move the other to the base of his tail—and he likes that quite a lot. He makes a strange, whining sound, not knowing whether to move forward or backward. It’s adorable! 

“Can I move?”

“Please!” he begs. 

I’ve always wanted to hear him beg. So I tentatively move my hips—slowly—still giving him time to adjust, but he looks up at me, almost irritated.

“Harder—fuck me like you _mean_ it,” he says softly.

And I can only respond one way—I comply with a smile, and I feel my fangs bare.

He murmurs with pleasure—and then, as I angle my hips, trying to find just the right place, he loses his breath for a moment, drawing his claws against my chest, and growls.

“There?” I ask. 

“Ah— _please_!”

I repeat the motion and another growl comes out. He’s adorable when he growls, I have to confess, so I keep it up—moving faster and harder—and soon, he is breathless.

And then, I feel something warm pressing inside my chest—and then—I _hear_ it.

His song. Konoe is singing—during _sex_. He opens his eyes wide, looking right at me, and I feel his body vibrating all around me—even deep inside—and his song comes out, making his body glow, tendrils of light shooting out from his body and enveloping mine. It feels so good! 

It is a warmth that defies physical warmth—it defies emotional warmth—a connection between us—a belonging. Moisture covers my face—and I realize it’s from tears, dripping silently from my eyes.

I have longed for this cat, pined for him—and he is here, now, in my arms, letting me love him, and he has given all of who he is to _me_.

“Konoe,” I whisper.

“Rai,” I hear him whisper my name—and his eyes close, a loud purring, gasping sigh escapes his mouth, and he climaxes, his insides clenching around me.

I lower my lips to his ear and lick it, invading the inner depths with my tongue—and I feel my body letting go as well—the release of a lifetime—my pleasure shooting into the warmth of his insides and into my limbs, tingling my ears and the tip of my tail. The tip of my nose and my fingers go completely numb.

When I open my eyes, the light of his song has faded, and I cover the cat in my lap with kisses, which are returned with exhausted fervor. It looks like we will be camping out here in the forest for the night—based on his adorably sluggish movements. 

He can hardly pull himself off of my body he is so tired. He’s purring like a kitten—and I remember that purr from when he slept so soundly when he was first cured of the curse. I help him off of me, and I can’t help myself from licking his ears.

“There is no way anyone wouldn’t find you an eager lover,” I kiss his ear again.

He blushes cutely at my comment. 

“It’s just been a while and I was flattered someone like you desired me.” 

“Someone like me?” I ask, a little surprised. “What does that mean?”

“You’re a successful bounty hunter!” Konoe says. “You’re tall, handsome, and rich. Eyes follow you wherever you go. Seriously—you attract more attention than is healthy.”

I laugh. 

“Bullshit. You’re one to talk! You’re the one with all the fans in Ransen! You’ve become such an attractive cat as you’ve gotten older.”

Konoe smiles and looks down. I notice he is shivering a little.

“Let’s get you dressed. You’re freezing.” 

“N-no. Not yet.” 

“What? You’ll catch your death!” 

“I-I... just want to be close to your skin for a moment. I-i want to touch you.” He looks up at me shyly, like he’s made some unusual or embarrassing request.

“You can do that with you clothes on. I’ll show you. Let me help you.”

I help pull his clothes back on quickly, and he seems terribly disappointed, but I dress as well. I pull my cloak out again, spreading it out on the ground.

“Come here, then.”

I lie down on my back and pull him close to me. I lift up my shirt and only the front of his shirt, pressing our bellies together. He can rest his head on my chest if he wants—I won’t be cold. Then, I entwine our tails—mine is much fluffier and warmer than his, and I will keep him warmer. I rest it on his back, sneaking it under his shirt. Then, I pull his cloak over us both.

I can easily lick his ears from here, too, which is what I really crave, and so I do. 

“Are you happy now?” 

“Mmm,” he purrs in contentment. “That was... perfect.”

“I didn’t hurt you?” I ask. I’m slightly concerned. But mostly, I’m amazed at who he became once his clothes came off. He is no innocent kitten anymore. It _thrills_ me. A small shiver goes through my back all the way through my tail. 

“What?” he asks.

I guess he felt that shiver. I just smile. 

“Oh, it’s nothing. I was just thinking you are  _not_ the innocent kitten I thought you were.” 

The ear I’m licking gets quite warm under my tongue. It’s quite a lovely color—this pink. I could get used to that. 

“So... are you going to stay with me?” I ask. “What do you want to do? Do you want to be a bounty hunter? Do you want to run that inn?”

“Hmm. I just want to be by your side.” Words I have longed to hear—for ten years—have just fallen from this small cat’s lips. “Will you help me sell the inn?” 

“I’ll help you _sell_ it. I’ll help you _run_ it. I’ll help you do whatever you like.”

Konoe snuggles his nose up into my chest, sighing softly. He’s still exhausted, and so he falls asleep on me. He purrs in his sleep, adorably. As for me, I just enjoy the feeling of his small body on me, the sweet smell of his skin, the taste of his ears, the sound of his purr. I haven’t ever felt so happy. For the first time in my life, I don’t know if I never want the night to end or I can’t _wait_ for tomorrow!

**Author's Note:**

> I really do not hate Bardo, nor do I hate his ending. This just happened when I honest-to-god tried to write a KonoexBardo fic when I couldn’t sleep last night. Goddamn. And happy sex. :)


End file.
